Stranger Danger
by Call-me-Cassandra
Summary: AU! Ron figures out how Riddle's diary works before Harry does, and it becomes his dirty little secret. Smut...semi/slash I guess...graphic Voldi thoughts...you've been warned.


**Disclaimer: Ummm...I really actually don't _want_ to claim credit for this one.**

**AN: So...this is sick and twisted and I'm a little mortified that it came out of my brain. I totally blame Demma Love's The Couple Challenge, where I was challenged to write a Ron/Voldemort pairing, and Halestorm's I Get Off, which was playing on my iTunes when I got the prompt. This story contains slash/ish wanking and semi-graphic Voldie memories, so don't say you haven't been warned. This is extremely AU, obviously.**

When he had first realized that the diary had switched hands, he had been furious. After all the time he had spent cultivating the girl—earning her trust, playing nice, worming his way into her subconscious—all of it was ruined if he couldn't get the book back into her hands. It didn't take him long to see it as a perfect opportunity. He was good at twisting things, finding the angle that would make a catastrophe into a victory. It was the key to many successes, more proof of his superiority over the cringing worms who whimpered at his feet.

He may have lost one childish fount of information, but this was much better. This boy—the brother of the girl, he learned—was much closer to his target, and all too willing to tell him every detail of his so called friend's life. He learned of the deep cancerous jealousy that was gnawing away at the red-head for everything that _Harry Potter_ had that he lacked. He learned about the infant's defeat of the Dark Lord with rage, and the popularity that it had brought the brat. He learned about the brat's charming family and the wealth he possessed from his murdered parents, while delighting in the fact that he had caused their demise. He learned about polyjuice potion and invisibility cloaks, errant house elves and servants who lost once again to a child. He learned and he pondered and he waited—coiled snake-like in the mind of the fool until the time to strike arrived.

The boy was much easier to manipulate than the girl. The girl had been full of admiration and infatuation, but the boy had a lovely darkness to his aura that made it easy to further taint. It was so much easier to slide into that young male body, more familiar. He relished the feeling of being corporeal once more. Being inside the girl had been sufficient, but it was strange and inferior. He had never been interested in girls, never interested in anything beyond himself. Having a body again, even the boy's body, was wonderful.

The first night he possessed the boy, it was late and he was writing to him by wandlight in his bed with the curtains drawn and a silencing charm in place. He was anxious to experience embodiment once more; there was really no other purpose for the excursion. He was tired and angry and it was oh so easy to melt into his brain until he disappeared and he was left in his place. He reveled in the slide of muscle over bone, at the responsiveness of his fingers to bending in the exact way dictated by his consciousness. Gliding his fingertips over the boy's features, he grew excited by the remembered sensation of contact that he had been missing for so many years.

Tracing the digits down the long neck and across the chest, he shivered as they came into contact with the erect nipples, aware now of the heady flood of arousal his explorations sent through this borrowed body. At this point, he realized that the boy was naked beneath the sheets, having stripped before bed. Skimming over the tightening buds once more, he felt the boy's erection begin to grow. His fingers continued to caress gently down and down, tracing the contour of the young chest, the lightly defined abs, following the line of ginger hair south.

By the time he reached his destination, he was hard as stone and throbbing painfully. Running a finger through the dripping pre-come, he smeared it across the head and followed the pulsating vein south towards his balls. Fondling them with one hand, he wrapped the other firmly around his shaft, sighing with relief. It had been such a long time since he felt that slow building pressure, and he savored the sensation. Pumping his fist faster, he moaned as thoughts of past conquests returned to him. He remembered pretty little Bella squirming beneath him in his dorm bed, sobbing with pain as he took her for the first time. He remembered Avery on his knees, his throat convulsing frantically around his cock as he tried unsuccessfully to breathe. He remembered blood and screams and death and came violently, nearly blacking out from the force of the body's spasms.

Catching his breath, he grinned maniacally, wondering how long it would take this body before it could go again. After all, he had a lot of catching up to do, and a lot more memories to fuel the fire. Later, when the boy would write to him in confusion, wondering why he was so tired and spent, unable to remember that he had not slept the night as he had assumed. Later, he would assure the boy that maybe he should go to bed earlier the next night to make sure he was well rested. That way, the fun could start even earlier.

**AN: *blushes profusely* Please, please don't flame me...I burn easily. I truly am sorry for this debacle, but it just sort of came to me...I am usually such a good girl...Also, as a girl, I have no experience as to what wanking is like for an adolescent boy, all knowledge comes from smutty fanfiction and bad romance novels, so sorry if this is flawed in some way.**


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